Stories

I follow a blog called humans of new york zealously and constantly it reminds me I am just one person in a mesh of billions of people and even though our stories are all different; we are all the same.

I am nowhere near new York now. I do want to visit and live though. Hopefully soon as my journeys about the country find themselves to me and leave me speechless.

I just wonder, what would I say? Would it be I’m an artist in a caged and restricted environment? That I value food and sustenance to heart and dedication?

Maybe the answer is simple: what I wear now, what I study now, why I do what I do now.

Perhaps my story would go like this:

I’m a wanderer, a fighter, an artist, a shy folk, one rarely seen frowning. I am not good with words, I’m not good at expressions, but I’m good at being raw. What you see is all of me and more. No hidden messages or words scrambled on a page and across my body. No expectations. Just living life day after day and hoping that somebody who hit a rough patch as I did will find the inspiration to keep moving.

What will your story be? Will you share it with the world.

PS: I love elders, I love the stories they weave and the knowledge they share. Often you will find me stationary whenever I am near one listening intently to their memories, as one day, perhaps, they will mirror my own.

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